Nanci wrinkled her nose. “I’ve never been much for opera.” Pointing to another flyer that littered the ground, she said, “But I would like to see the funhouse.”
“And the wax museum.”
Nanci moaned. “There’s so much to see. Do you think Mrs. Sloane will notice if we don’t come home tonight?”
“Only if her dress isn’t pressed for tomorrow,” Rosalind joked. Truly, she couldn’t imagine what her employers would do if she and Nanci stayed very late at the fair. They might wonder if they were missing, like Miranda and Tilly.
As they approached the entrance to the midway, they both looked at the giant Ferris wheel looming over them. It was a massive structure. Each enclosed car held sixty people. As it revolved in its lit splendor, Rosalind blanched. “Should we go on the wheel now?”
Nanci shuddered. “I don’t care that we got tokens. The thought of being so high up scares me to death.”
They’d just passed the signs for Wild Bill Cody’s Wild West Show when Rosalind felt her heart jump . . . but this time because of something far different than a fear of heights.
Approaching them were Douglass Sloane and his gentleman friend, Reid Armstrong. Gripping her friend’s hand, she whispered, “Nanci, that’s Douglass Sloane coming this way.”
Nanci’s cheeks bloomed pink. “Truly?” She craned her neck. “Oh, look at him now, Rosalind! Isn’t he something? Douglass is so handsome. Do you think they’ve seen us yet?”
“I sincerely hope not. Hurry, let’s go visit the wax museum.”
“The what?”
“The wax museum. That building, there.” Her tone had become urgent. Though they had been given the time off, she still felt uneasy about being seen by one of their employers. More than that was the slow, worrisome sensation she always ended up feeling whenever Douglass was nearby. He made her uneasy. She wasn’t sure if it was because he was a man about town, wealthy and sophisticated, and she was merely a farmer’s daughter pretending to be a sleuth, or because she had a terrible feeling that he was somehow connected to her sister’s disappearance.
No matter the reason, she certainly didn’t want his company to ruin their day of freedom.
Gripping her friend’s arm, she gave it a little yank. “Hurry, Nanci. We don’t want to run into them.”
But instead of heeding Rosalind’s wishes, Nanci smiled gamely at the two approaching men. Both nodded in return, then Douglass’s eyes widened in recognition.
“Well, what do you know? Two of my housemaids. Rosalind and . . .”
“Nanci, sir.” She gave a little curtsy.
“Ah, yes. Are you two having a good time?”
“Oh yes, indeed, sir. I mean, Mr. Sloane, sir. I mean, we were given the afternoon and evening off by your father.”
He leaned close. “My father is Mr. Sloane. Call me Douglass, yes?”
“I couldn’t.” But all the same, Nanci leaned a little closer.
His dimple appeared. “Sure you could. Especially here. After all, no one back home will ever know what we do.”
Rosalind felt her nerves tighten as his words floated over them. To her way of thinking, they sounded vaguely threatening. But it seemed she was the only one who thought that. Nanci was smiling flirtatiously, and Douglass looked pleased.
And Mr. Armstrong? He simply looked bored.
Feeling slightly silly, Rosalind forced herself to relax. Her problem was that she saw danger at every turn. Because her sister’s welfare and disappearance rested at the top of her concerns, she most likely saw problems where there were none.
Worried about things that she shouldn’t concern herself about.
Standing beside Nanci, even Rosalind had to admit that Douglass Sloane was charming. Furthermore, it truly was a blessing that he was so friendly. She’d served enough men and women in the dining rooms to realize that most of the guests barely deigned to even notice the servants, let alone bother to learn their names. Still fewer took the time to ever have a conversation with them.
She should have known better than to assume anything about Douglass. After all, she’d been raised with her mother’s constant gentle reminder that they were all God’s children, and therefore equal in his eyes.
With all that in mind, Rosalind tried her best to be a bit more lighthearted. “Perhaps I will call you Douglass too.”
Dramatically, Douglass patted his chest. “Be still, my heart. My name sounds so sweet on your lips.”
Unable to stop herself, Rosalind giggled. Yes, Douglass Sloane flirted too much. And surely a respectful woman would never give any of his words credence. She did not. But she would be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that having a sophisticated man like Douglass Sloane take notice of a country girl like her made her slightly breathless.